What is it about Sam Shepard's True West that packs a wallop each and every time I see it—and that is four times, if memory serves? Thank goodness I have kept my journals and notes going back to the 1980s for an occasional reference or simply a nostalgic rainy-day trip down memory lane. The first time I saw it was in 1980 at the Public Theater. It was a troubled production that disturbed its author sufficiently for him to disassociate himself from it. Troubled as that production may have been, even with the accomplished performing of Tommy Lee Jones and Peter Boyle as the alter-ego-ing brothers, it was an occasion that proved to be unforgettable for me. I realized with all the presumed troubles that it was an important work. So how did that stack up against the Steppenwolf production that transferred in 1982 from Chicago to the Cherry Lane Theatre with its stars Gary Sinese and John Malkovich? And what about the play’s long-awaited Broadway debut in 2000 with the amazing Philip Seymour Hoffman and John C. Reilly who alternated the roles of the brothers? That version was acknowledged (also by me \) to have delved deeper into the play’s metaphysical core. So here we are in 2019 with a perfectly fine Roundabout Theater production under the direction of James Macdonald with Ethan Hawke, as Lee and Paul Dano as Austin. Whether or not you acknowledge True West as the peak in Shepard’s impressive but notably unconventional canon, its story about two brothers who bait each other and then brutally battle each other is one of the more bizarre demonstrations of metamorphosis that the stage has seen. Shepard grittily dramatizes the creative process at work at its most primitive and humorous level. This humorous level is the one that seems to have captured the imagination and the interest of its players and directors over the years. Without losing the intensity of the plot’s meticulously crafted trajectory and without losing the play’s scrutiny of its characters, director Macdonald and his two stars Ethan Hawke and Paul Dano can be praised for the way the brothers’ inner demons appear exposed and vulnerable. An apparent slob and ne’er-do-well, except for some strong ethics regarding truth and honesty, Lee (Ethan Hawke) has returned after a five-month sojourn in the Mohave Desert to his mother’s house in a California suburb. Austin (Paul Dano) has been entrusted to stay at home and water their mother’s plants while he works on yet another pedestrian screenplay—one he is trying to peddle to an apparently interested producer. Austin’s more clinical/pedestrian approach to his work is seen in direct conflict with Lee’s obsession to challenge his brother on his own turf. The sudden disruptive and often violent invasion of Austin’s world, and the eventual reversal of powers as Lee manipulates the clearly opportunistic film producer Saul Kimmer (a credible Gary Wilmes) leads to a struggle for power fraught with boozing, brawling and a general devastation of the home. As the donnybrook progresses so does the decimation of almost everything the brothers can get their hands on—crushed beer cans, dinnerware, and appliances. Congrats to set designer Mimi Lien’s responsive kitchen-plus setting that takes the obligatory abuse in its stride. The now almost classic “pop-up toasters” scene is given all the latitude it needs to be ferociously funny. It’s almost difficult to recognize the bearded and slovenly dressed Hawke. This much lauded stage and film star succeeds brilliantly as the menacing, devilishly seedy Lee. In stunning contrast is Dano’s passive-aggressive performance as Austin—from a slow burn into an inferno. Good work. Act II has the pleasure of having the always terrific Marylouise Burke portray Mom. Whether this is the true-est west of them all is debatable but as entertainment, it is a winner.
